


hunger

by tinyduck



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged up characters, Biting, Creampie, F/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Praise Kink, Smut, Space AU, Squirting, background yukie/kaori bc it's cute, oral (m&f receiving), overstim, tw blood, tw dubcon (in part 4), tw horror elements (if you can stomach Alien and Prometheus you will be just fine!), tw mentions of death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-28 09:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30137598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyduck/pseuds/tinyduck
Summary: Ballsy,Konoha had called you.Brazen, is what Akaashi had wanted to say instead, lingering on the memory of you kissing him in the kitchen, smiling sharp and tempting as you whispered,I could just eat you up.After five long, lonely years on Mars, Akaashi remembers what it means to be hungry for someone else.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	1. lick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my piece for the **Haikyuu HQ NSFW server collab** on tumblr, with the prompt _hard at work_. As you can see, I was very uh...loose with my interpretation of it. I am not an expert in astronomy, AIs, or whatever else have you, but I had a lot of fun writing this. It’s got a plot, it’s got world-building, and it’s got a lot of smut! I hope you guys enjoy and please mind the warnings before reading.
> 
> This was born entirely from a vivid dream I had where I was slowly walking down a spiraling sidewalk towards a city in the middle of a huge lake as the sky slid from night to day. It was super cool and I wish I could have it again 🚀🌏🌙⭐
> 
> **MIND THE WARNINGS**

It’s too hot.

It’s too hot, it’s too bright, and the buzzing of the cicadas is so _loud_. Akaashi can feel the sweat running in rivulets down his forehead, the band of his hat doing little to soak it up. It’s probably irrevocably stained at this point, sweat soaking up above the brim in jagged lines. Even his backpack straps are soaked through, clinging uncomfortably to his shoulders, pasting his thin tee to his body. The only thing that keeps him pushing onward is watching the black and yellow sneakers in front of him march on, dust-stained soles flashing brilliantly in the midday sun. 

“Bokuto- _san_.” He grimaces. His mouth is dry, but grabbing water would mean peeling his bag off his sticky back, would mean stopping when they’re already so close to the top of the trail, would mean he might reconsider if he has the energy to make it all the way up there. “How much longer?”

“Almost there, ‘Kaashi! I can see the top!” Bokuto somehow finds the energy to bound ahead even _faster_ , kicking up small clouds of dust that force Akaashi to look up. It’s mind-boggling how Bokuto has such limitless reserves of enthusiasm, his own shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, the light green dark with sweat along the collar. Then again, Akaashi thinks, Bokuto isn’t your average seventeen-year-old; not in the slightest. 

He smiles faintly as his friend races ahead to pose at the top of the trail, arms akimbo as he takes in the view before turning and bouncing up and down on the spot, frantically waving his arms as if Akaashi isn’t already looking directly at him. “C’mon, Akaashi! You gotta see this!”

Akaashi’s feet pick up in spite of himself, exhaustion relenting just a little bit, just enough for him to clamber up the rest of the way and stand under the blessed shade of the tightly clustered trees. There’s a desire path worn from years of intrepid explorers just like themselves that winds through them to the edge of the cliff, the rumbling waterfall purring like some gigantic beast waiting for them to wake it. 

“Ready?” 

Akaashi pulls his hat off and swipes the sweat from his brow. This close, he’s filled with eager anticipation, Bokuto’s beaming face bolstering his waning enthusiasm. “Ready.”

Bokuto leads the way, pointing out raised tree roots, carefully holding back branches, looking back every once in a while, just to make sure Akaashi is still behind him. At the edge of the cliff, it’s still too hot and too bright, but the cicadas are muffled by the water pounding relentlessly onto the rocks below, the rushing torrent of white-tipped rapids a mosaic of glittering blues and greens below them. 

“Whoaaaaa.” Bokuto stands far too close to the edge for Akaashi’s liking, peering down below, the back of his shirt dappled with light peeking through the trees that stretch their branches past him. He tips the brim of his cap up as he crouches with reckless abandon, wrapping his arms around his knees as he whistles. “This is so cool. Whaddaya think, Akaashi? It was worth it, huh?”

“Be careful, Bokuto- _san_.” Akaashi is standing an appropriate distance away, he thinks. He can’t see all of the winding river nor all the rocks, wet and shiny from the waterfall, but his limited slice of heaven is far more comforting than the way the toes of Bokuto’s sneakers poke out over the edge. 

“I will be, I will be. Don’t worry so much! You should come closer.” 

“I don’t think that’s—”

“Only if you want to,” Bokuto adds on, flapping a hand in Akaashi’s direction. “Want me to tell you what it looks like?”

Akaashi smiles and grabs his water. “Why not?”

Bokuto rattles off a vague descriptor, trying to compare the rocks to marbles, the water to ribbon, the waterfall to the long stretch of spun sugar they’d unraveled from Dragon’s Beard candy they’d had last week. He loses sight of his mission part way, wondering aloud if his mom will have more by the time they get home, pausing only to gulp down some water himself. He screws the lid back on and blinks, smiling sheepishly over his shoulder. “Guess I got a little carried away.”

“No, you were good,” Akaashi promises, smacking a mosquito on his arm.

“I wish I was good with talkin’ and writin’ like you.”

Akaashi pauses wiping his palm on his shorts, a pink flush that has nothing to do with the sun prickling across his nose. “I—Thank you.” He has to take a moment, savouring the compliment before he replies, “I wish I was as brave as you.”

“Hmmmmm no, you’re pretty brave.” Bokuto squints up at the sun then blinks rapidly, trying to clear the dots from his vision as he smiles, wide and toothy at his best friend. “Hey, maybe when I’m a famous astronaut I can tell you all about my adventures and you can write about them when you’re a famous journalist! That’s a pretty good plan, huh?” 

Akaashi can’t help but smile back as he toys with the hat in his hands. “That’s a great plan.”

“Yeah! Yeah, it’s really good!” Bokuto springs up to his feet, nodding decisively. “I’ll make sure they name a star or a satellite after you or something!”

“I don’t think they’ll let you do that, Bokuto- _san_.”

“Well, I’ll do it anyway and just won’t tell ‘em! That way we’ll both remember each other even when we’re livin’ out our own dreams!” Bokuto looks so proud — hands punched into the air, beaming as bright as the sun — that Akaashi can’t do anything but agree. “Then it’s a promise! Now let’s go find somewhere to eat! I’m _starvin’_.” 

He hums slightly off-key as he walks back the way they came, swinging his arms happily. Akaashi hesitates, staring at the cliff, at the way the light makes the edge of it a brilliant white. Making up his mind he strides towards it, still tucked under the trees as he carefully, carefully leans forward, eyeing the breathtaking view below him. It’s worth the nervous thrum in his veins, the rapid beating of his heart.

“’Kaashi.”

Akaashi looks over his shoulder, brows furrowed, because Bokuto’s voice is shaking and he’s white as a ghost, and he’s pointing at something past Akaashi—no, _above_ him. 

Slowly, slowly Akaashi looks up and he sees it, the open maw filled with too many teeth, vile green spittle coating the yellowing canines that are too, too long to be normal. Above them, the glowing red eyes and the legs – there’s so many legs, the colour of gleaming obsidian and razor thin, each ending in a wicked point and they’re slicing through the air towards him and—

Akaashi wakes with a start, hand smacking desperately around on his nightstand. He bites back a curse when he knocks his glasses to the floor, fingers shaking too badly to work properly. He can hear them skidding away as he tries to suck in a few desperate breaths, hands gripping his sheets as he tries to count backwards from ten in his head. The stars above him are blurred, fuzzy pinpricks of light that melt into a black velvet sky, and right now they remind him too much of glinting eyes, flashing in the shadows. He sits upright, trying to focus on the blanket beneath him as he croaks out, “Bokuto- _san_.”

In the corner a pulsing golden light flickers, then steadies. 

[Yes, Akaashi?]

“Set lights to morning, Tokyo.”

[You got it.]

The ceiling brightens, but it’s cloudy in Tokyo today, the grey only inspiring melancholy, virtual rain fading into open air. 

“Change lights to yesterday morning.”

[On it.]

The room brightens, cheery sunlight flooding the room and gleaming off the edge of Akaashi’s wayward glasses. Akaashi sighs and scrubs a hand down his face, wiping the cold sweat from his upper lip as he feels the squeezing in his chest lessen. It’s normal. It’s routine. It’s simply a part of who he is now, and that is abundantly clear in the glass of water he already has ready and waiting on his nightstand, in the way the calming scent of lavender floats through the air, pre-programmed for 7am as always. His shower clicks on as does his coffee maker, the smell blending perfectly with the floral scent still lingering in his nose. His hand is shaking a little when he grabs the mug, warm ceramic doing little to distract him from that fact that the thundering shower reminds him too much of—

[You good, ‘Kaashi?]

“Yes, Bokuto- _san_ ,” he says automatically, blowing lightly at the steam curling in front of his face. There’s a pause as the AI runs whatever code it needs to as it mulls over his answer. 

[You don’t sound okay.]

Not for the first time, Akaashi regrets making it a little too observant for his liking. Or maybe, he muses, it was less about observance and more about his own selfish desire to bring his best friend with him to Mars. “I’m okay.”

[Promise?]

 _Definitely selfish desire_ , Akaashi thinks as he sets his untouched coffee down, the smell making his stomach roll. “I promise, B—” The name catches in his throat. If the AI notices, it doesn’t comment on it. 

Akaashi showers in peace, washing away the sweat still clinging to his body, ruffling his hair with a warmed towel as he wanders over to his holo-desk, the pale blue lights flickering to life with his appearance. 

[You got a lot to do today.]

“Hm…like what?” 

[The newbies land at 1800 hours.]

Akaashi looks away from Konoha’s report on the state of their greenhouse, the fatigue sloughing from his shoulders as he eyes the event Bokuto’s swings forward, the steady ticking of the timer lifting his mood higher and higher with each number that counts down. 

[It’ll be nice to see Sarukui and Kaori again!]

“Yeah. It will be.” His eyes flicker to the third name, and he hums in thought. “It’ll be nice to have someone new on the station too.”

The morning passes swiftly, preparations for the new astronauts eating away at the hours. Yukie doesn’t even pause to lament the view outside their windows, clouds of sun-bleached terracotta dust obscuring the sky, still lingering from the last windstorm months ago. Everyone is buzzing with excitement, scurrying through the maze of hallways to prepare rooms and complete tasks; Washio diligently hangs the welcome banner in the kitchen without even being asked. 

[They’re here,] Bokuto announces as they’re setting the table. [And they’re eaaaarly too.]

The kitchen is abandoned, everybody throwing what little composure they have to the wind to race to the vestibule, watching as the airlock depressurizes, as three tired faces peek through the windows, toothy grins on Sarukui and Kaori’s faces. They’re all itching to greet their friends, but there’s still some semblance of propriety, Akaashi solemnly shaking the hands of the new arrivals, unable to keep the smile from his face when Sarukui shakes his head, eyes fixed on the commander’s badge above Akaashi’s heart.

“I can’t believe you brought us here.”

Yukie tugs Kaori a little closer, her eyes misty with tears. “It’s nice being back together again. All of us.”

There’s a beat of silence, one that stretches a little too long, one that Akaashi knows is probably incredibly uncomfortable for the single outlier in their group, shifting from side to side along the fringes of their huddle and awkwardly looking from face to face. He catches the edge of your glance before you quickly look away, and he’s about to speak when Bokuto says,

[Hey hey hey! Welcome to Fukurodani!]

It’s awful timing. 

It stretches the tension in the air thin, half a breath away from breaking, and Akaashi can see it on everyone’s face; can feel it hovering just below the surface of his own. He clears his throat. 

“Why don’t we show you to your rooms?”

The discomfort dissipates, voices bouncing off the walls as everyone dutifully troops out of the vestibule and down the hall. Dinner is loud and rowdy, Akaashi’s head spinning from the clamouring voices in a way that makes him feel dizzy with delight as he selfishly imagines for a moment that he’s back in the academy with his friends. The sight of you has him doing a double take, smiling at something Konoha’s said, and even though he knows it’s cruel, his heart aches for a moment about how _wrong_ you look with them, when someone else should be sitting in your chair—

“I got you a present, by the way.” Sarukui waves a thin black case in front of Akaashi’s face, snapping him out of the spiral he’d been considering trekking down.

Akaashi neatly accepts the case with a careful hand, his slender fingers prying along the invisible seam to reveal a sleek silver chip nestled in white foam. “Does it count as a present if it’s part of your job?”

“Don’t be like that,” Konoha says with a sharp grin, stacking empty plates with a flourish and waving your grasping hands away. “It’s gonna be pretty cool from what the comms said. ‘Sides, we need an update – it’s been years.”

Akaashi carefully lifts the chip with his nail, examining the gold and black mazes etched along its surface. “Improved processing, more in-depth scanning, and…”

He trails off more in awe than anything else, not really expecting it when you pipe in with,

“—and longer-range pinging so we can finally explore outside the green zone.” You smile shyly at him, bobbing your head a little in deference.

“She did most of the work on it,” Kaori pipes in, beaming from her seat in Yukie’s lap, arms wrapped tight around her girlfriend’s shoulders. Yukie’s gift, fashioned from scrap and devotion, sits pretty on her wrist, the tiny handmade charms catching the light.

“That’s impressive,” Akaashi says, snapping the case shut as he nods back at you.

“Most of it was built off your work it really—it really wasn’t that much.” Your bashful expression morphs into one of outright embarrassment when Yukie stage-whispers,

“She has the biggest crush on you.”

“ _Yukie_. That’s not—How did you even—” You narrow your eyes at Kaori who’s glaring at her girlfriend with reluctant reproachfulness.

“On your _brain_ ,” she clarifies, slapping a hand over Yukie’s mouth. “She has the biggest crush on your brain.”

Akaashi blinks once, twice, and looks back over at you. “I’m not—”

“You are,” you insist, spurred on by your ‘no longer quite so secret’ secret. “You’re the smartest guy on the station. …no offense.”

“None taken,” Sarukui chuckles.

You continue full-steam ahead. “You pioneered the technology to electrolyze the salt lakes and convert that into oxygen on top of the process to convert the carbon dioxide in the atmosphere into oxygen through—well, I mean…you already know that. That and everything you’ve done for your friend—” 

You catch yourself, eyes wide as you zip your lips shut. You shrink a little in on yourself, glaring at Yukie when she makes a strained comment about how cute you are as Sarukui’s ever-present smile grows a little bigger, a little stiffer as he pats your shoulder and tells you to breathe. 

“It’s all good. Sometimes Akaashi needs a reminder about all the good he’s done,” Konoha drawls, sitting noisily back in his chair, the legs skidding across the floor. He props his cheek on his fist, eyes glittering. “Right, ‘Kaashi?”

Akaashi opens his mouth to protest, when Washio interrupts him, stoic and matter-of-fact as always. “He’s right.” 

It’s there again, that unspoken thing that lingers to the side of every doorway, on the edge of every chair. This time Akaashi refuses to let it dig its way under his skin, opting to stand instead. 

“I’m going to run this now.” His gaze flickers over to you, your shoulders high around your ears, looking like you’re doing everything you can to disappear into the floor beneath you. “You have the second pass key for it, right?” 

“Yes. Yes!” You scramble to your feet. Yukie hides a snicker in Kaori’s hair, the other woman fighting to keep her own smile at bay. 

The walk to 1-A is quiet, the hiss of the doors opening almost too loud in the silence between you. He can feel you looking at him every once a while, struggling to find the words to say as he inserts the chip. He could be kind, could put you out of your misery but he knows the words you’re chewing over and he can’t bring himself to help you speak them. 

“I want to apologize for earlier.” You nibble worriedly at your lip. Akaashi stares at the screen, trying to drown himself in the clicking of the keyboard. “I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories about your friend, but it just kind of slipped out.” He doesn’t reply, just stares at the lines of code and wills his fingers to keep moving. Your voice grows quieter, and he hates that he can hear what you’re about to say, the words echoing a thousand-fold in his head: “I’m sorry about Bokuto- _san_.”

[Nothin’ to apologize for!]

You don’t even jump, your eyes just get sadder, softer, and somehow that’s worse. Pity has a different sort of pain to it; Akaashi’s realized that over the years, having been on the receiving end more often than not. He fixes an unaffected look onto his face, cool, calm, collected as always as he looks you in the eye.

“It’s fine.”

  
  
  


He’s back.

He’s back on the cliff’s edge and it’s still too hot, still too bright. He can feel the mist from the waterfall brushing across his skin, the barest reprieve that casts rainbow-filled diamonds along his arms. He looks down again at the river, watches the current swirl the surface, eddies and whorls of white curling and unfurling along the water. He looks to the waterfall, the rainbows scattered through it like shattered glass. The back of his neck prickles and this time he can hear it: the sound of clicking – sharp and quiet and _terrifying_ – just under the rumble of the waterfall. Can feel the air parting as the Arachne lowers itself down from its nest, grey, emaciated arms tipped in wicked black claws reaching out for him. He almost wants to look, but he can’t—that’s not how this story goes, how this _memory_ goes.

He hears Bokuto’s sharp inhale, and his best friend’s voice wavers, echoes as he calls—

[Akaashi.]

Akaashi’s eyes fly open. It’s a blessed change from usual, but he almost feels a little cheated; even though the monster has retreated for now, he knows it’s still lurking under his bed, in his closet, beneath his stairs and waiting to snatch him up between its jaws. 

“What time is it?”

[0300. There’s something wrong.]

“What?”

[There’s a breach.]

That’s enough to shake the sleep from Akaashi’s veins, a thin metal arm already swinging his many jumpsuits his way as Bokuto raises the lights. “Does anybody else know?”

[I wanted to tell you first.]

“Where is it?”

[The airlock.]

“Do we have visuals?”

[Of course, ‘Kaashi. Lemme get it for you.]

The hologram pops up, the pristine image of the airlock in blue. It looks normal enough, if not for the motion sensor lights that flood the vestibule, a sure sign someone was just there. 

Akaashi swears and turns back to the buttons lining his thermal jumpsuit. “Wake Yukie and Konoha. Tell them to arm themselves.”

[Wait, hang on a sec.]

“Bokuto- _san_ , if this is serious, we don’t have time—”

[Just take a look.]

On-screen, the miniature image of you is waiting for the airlock to depressurize, nimble fingers removing your helmet as soon as the disinfectant spray stops and the light flashes green, the doors hissing open. “Oh.”

[Still want me to wake Konoha and Yukie?]

“No, it’s fine.” He watches as you remove your outer layer, placing it back in its compartment. “What was she doing?”

[Why don’tcha go ask her?]

Akaashi unbuttons his thermals, frowning the whole while. “I probably should.”

[Might be a good move for the smartest guy on the station.]

There’s a smug undercurrent to Bokuto’s voice that Akaashi doesn’t appreciate, and he fixes the little golden light in the corner of his room with a flat look. He takes a little too long trading loaded comments with his AI and he nearly runs into you outside his room, both of you stumbling back a step.

“Hi!” You look bewildered, hair mussed, eyes wide.

Akaashi clears his throat, ignoring what sounds like a suspiciously amused hum from Bokuto. “Are you okay?”

“Yes?”

“Bokuto- _san_ mentioned he saw you going to the airlock.”

“Oh.” You smile faintly. “I got up to get some water.”

“Outside?”

“I just…” You glance up and down the hall, searching for people that aren’t there as you lean in a little closer. “Don’t tell anybody okay? I feel kind of silly.”

Akaashi leans closer, watching the nervous flutter of your lashes. “I won’t.”

“I thought I heard something.” You talk low and fast, staring resolutely at a spot on Akaashi’s chest. “It was…I thought I heard tapping or scratching or something on my window and it just…worried me. I thought it might be—” You pause, the words sticking in your throat. 

He knows what you’re too afraid to say; knows what you’re feeling right now. It’s a hazy memory, but it’s not difficult to remember his first night on Mars, the fear, the panic, the _loneliness_. The lingering worry that somewhere on this barren planet there was still a hidden pocket of Arachne, venom dripping from their lolling tongues, skittering from side to side on too many legs waiting for a chance to attack. 

It softens him a little; makes him a little more willing to overlook your transgression and the late hour. Makes him remember that even though you’re here with them, there’s still an invisible glass pane separating you from the rest of their group, your empty seat occupied by someone’s ghost through nobody’s fault but his own.

“It was probably just the wind. It picks up debris sometimes and it hits the side.”

“Y-yeah. Of course.” You finally meet his eyes, your own big, wide, and a little watery as you pull on a smile. “I’m sorry if it woke you up. You should go back to bed.”

“You should too.” You bob your head a little, mumbling a quiet _‘night_ he returns in kind. He hesitates in the doorway, calls your name softly after a moment. “You shouldn’t go outside. Even if there aren’t anymore Arachne here, it’s still not safe.”

Only half your face is aglow from the light spilling from his room, but it still catches in your eyes, makes them glow with golden fire as you give a more genuine smile. “I won’t do it again. Thanks, Akaashi.”

He takes another pause as you take another two steps away. “Keiji.”

“Hm?”

“You can call me Keiji.”

  
  
  


If Akaashi looks like hell the next morning (as Konoha very kindly tells him), you look about ten times worse. Yukie barely manages to eke out the start of an inappropriate comment before Kaori slaps her hand over her girlfriend’s mouth, bracelet jangling, forcibly dragging her from the kitchen. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice, just giving Akaashi a tired smile and silently offering to top up his third cup of coffee. 

In spite of the strange start the two of you had, he finds it surprisingly easy to talk to you. You’re smart and you know what you’re doing, contingency plans a to z already mapped out in your head when he picks through it. Before long all of you have settled into a semblance of a rhythm, in good spirits as Konoha crows about how ‘sick the new patch is’, as you all cook dinner together – seven bodies squeezed into a tiny kitchenette, as you all squabble over which movie you’re going to watch. Time passes, Mars never ceasing its orbit around the sun, the sky slipping from sepia to linger in the lush deep blue of twilight. Hours blend into days, days blend into—

Night. Another night—no, wait. Not night. Another morning. Another _afternoon_.

Blazing sun. Sweat trickling down his neck. His sweat-damp hat in his hands.

Just like always.

There is no clicking tonight, no sound of the air splitting apart for the horror lingering above him, and he can’t decide if he prefers that to the chill that races up and down his spine. Every hair is standing on end, the air filled with _wrongness_ , the river too blue, the trees too green, the sun a blinding, searing white.

The crack of twigs beneath Bokuto’s feet ricochets like a gunshot, the crunch of his sneakers, black and yellow with dusty white soles, sliding across the ground grating against Akaashi’s ears. His gasp seems to suck the air out of Akaashi’s lungs, shredding his throat on its way out as he winces. The creak of Bokuto’s jaw, the click of his teeth as he says—

[‘Kaashi, wake up.]

His mind is awake before his body is, eyes firmly shut as he sighs and feels the tension ebb from his body. It’d been a long day filled with updates, reports, and the technical nitty gritty he absolutely despised. Necessary evils of more people on the station, he supposed. 

“What.”

[Airlock again, buddy. It’s your girl.]

“Again?” Akaashi groans, scrubbing his hands down his face as he blinks tiredly at the ceiling, Bokuto already switched to what he liked to call ‘golden hour glow’; the perfect balance of light to soften the indignity of being woken at 3am for the second this month. “Let me know when she’s near.”

[You got it.]

Akaashi sits on the edge of his bed, head between his knees as he stares at the floor.

[Hey hey hey she’s almost here.]

Akaashi yawns through a soft laugh. “Thank you, Bokuto- _san_.”

[Anytime!]

The door slides open and there you are, once again a deer in headlights as he surveys you, arms crossed. 

Your teeth glimmer in the shadows as you slowly turn to face him. “Look who it is: the smartest guy on the station.”

“Everybody here is smart.”

“Not as smart as you.”

You’re eyeing him a little more boldly, gaze lingering on the curve of his throat, at the way his sleep-rumpled sleeves fit his arms. He doesn’t…hate it. He blinks. _He doesn’t hate it_. And he doesn’t know what to do with that information right now, so he settles for,

“Tapping at your window again?”

You’re smiling at him, amused and a little coy. “There’s always tapping at my window.” 

“I thought we talked about this.”

“Sorry, sorry. The dust settled and I just wanted to get a good look at the moons. Reminds me of home.” You shrug a little, a silent _what can you do?_

“It’s not safe,” he reminds you, and you just shrug again.

“I’m not that worried.”

His eyes narrow, and he can’t tell if you’re being flippant or foolish, or both; if your month on the station has dissolved all your fears and left nothing but recklessness behind. “You should go back to bed.” 

“So should you.” You poke gently at his chest, at the center of his sternum, branding him with your touch. You smile, that same demure air about you as you give him a little wave. “‘Night, Keiji.” 

He steps back into his room and the doors automatically shut, but he doesn’t head back to bed. Instead, he stands there, befuddled, bewildered, trying to put a finger on what exactly was so…different about you this time around. What, exactly, had changed since your last 3am encounter? There’s something there on the tip of his tongue, flittering out of reach the more he tries to grab at it until it concedes, paper wings crushed between his grasping hands. His hand clutches at the front of his shirt as he stands there, more than a little stunned.

“Bokuto- _san_.”

[Yeah, ‘Kaashi?]

He futilely attempts to flatten his ruffled hair. “I think she was flirting with me.”

[Hmmmm. You think?] The AI sounds fond, or at least as fond as it can be. [Can’t blame her for going outside. The sky’s nice and clear tonight.]

Akaashi stares at the shuttered windows and wonders if they even still work. It’s a silly, nonsensical thought; station maintenance wouldn’t allow them to deteriorate, but it doesn’t change the fact that they haven’t been open since his first day on Mars, when he stepped into this room and stared at a sky he didn’t want to see. 

“Bokuto- _san_.” He makes his way over to the windows, and feels his pulse jump higher and higher. “Can you open the blinds?”

[‘Course I can.]

They whir up, gently clicking as they slip away. Phobos is slowly traversing the sky, its craters and misshapen edges slipping past the stars. The potato moon, Bokuto had called it, laughing all the while. Deimos glitters bright as always beneath it, a diamond pin stuck to the sky as its tuber-shaped twin makes its merry way along its orbit. 

The joke, when they’d studied the solar system in middle school, was that Bokuto was Phobos, always racing ahead, running laps around everyone else as he forged onward, and Akaashi was Deimos, always dependable, keeping Phobos company as he too made his steady way forward. It still hurts, staring up at the sky. It still feels vast and lonely and it’s hard to enjoy the first clear view they’ve had of the stars in months, the dust storm that’d blown in ages ago finally fully swept away.

 _Five years_ , he thinks to himself, the thought slipping unbidden through his mind. He’s been on Mars for five years now. Five long years refusing to stare at the same set of stars that shine down on Bokuto’s grave, wondering if the ghost of his best friend has his face tilted to the sky. Wondering if the vase he’d placed by the headstone is still intact. If the little volleyball stamped into cool metal is still buried right beside it; a piece of him on earth, an imitation of Bokuto on Mars. 

[You want me to close ‘em?]

Akaashi flinches, smooths the threadbare edges of his composure back down for the intricate coding he’d put too much of himself into. 

“Please, Bokuto- _san_.”

There’s a pause as the curtains whir back down, the silver glow of the Milky Way winking back to life on Akaashi’s ceiling. Akaashi fills the silence with his rustling sheets, fighting the urge to hide beneath his covers from the watchful golden eye in the corner of his room. But he’s programmed Bokuto- _san_ well, given him all the nuances of a best friend in spirit. So Bokuto neatly navigates the minefield, settling instead on mischievously saying,

[Just in case it still needs sayin’, ‘Kaashi, I’m pretty sure she _was_ flirting with you.]

For some reason, it takes the AI confirming his suspicions for the blush to spread across Akaashi’s cheeks. “I—” 

[And next time,] the AI sounds amused, [I think you should flirt back.]

“…good night, Bokuto- _san_.”

[Heh. ‘Night, Akaashi.]

He doesn’t flirt back. He doesn’t have the chance to, anyway.

But Akaashi can’t help the way his eyes keep lingering on you a little longer, the way they seem to seek you out even in a room with his friends. Every time you catch his eye, and every time you give him that same Cheshire smile, like you were waiting for him to look your way. 

Kaori hums as she flicks through a series of reports, reaching for her coffee, wrinkling her nose when she realizes there’s nothing left. “Hey, Bokuto- _san_?”

[Yeah?]

“Can you start the coffee-maker?”

[Sure thing, bud.]

“You’re not supposed to use him for that,” Yukie says with an amused smile, sticking her tongue out when Kaori sticks out hers. 

“I knoooow, but I’m busy right now.” Kaori gestures at the screens in front of her, blue streaking across her face. “’Sides, he doesn’t mind, right?”

[Right.] The smell of coffee fills the air. [Hey hey hey! Coffee’s ready!]

“Thanks, Bo—”

[Hey hey hey! Hey hey h-hey! H-he—he—h—]

Kaori freezes, looks guiltily at her girlfriend. “Oh god, did I…? Did I break him?”

Washio pauses in his tinkering to shake his head. “Solar wind. It interferes with his programming sometimes if it disrupts the magnetic field.” 

“Oh, thank goodness—”

“But you still shouldn’t get used to using him for coffee.”

“…thanks, Washio.”

“Hey. Keiji.” You sit beside Akaashi, thigh brushing his as he tries hard not to notice, tries _harder_ not to notice the sly look Sarukui and Konoha are exchanging as they bat their eyes and mouth _Keiiiiiji_. He tries his hardest to focus on what you’re saying instead of the shape of your mouth as you speak, the way he can see the peek of your tongue, your teeth. “What do you think?”

He blinks behind his glasses, pushes them back up his nose for the sake of hiding his embarrassment when he says, in a hushed whisper, “Sorry. Do you mind repeating that?”

Your eyes narrow a little, but the purse of your mouth (he can’t stop looking at it) is kind, amused. You clear your throat and he drags his eyes to the report in front of you. “As I was saying…”

  
  
  


Akaashi’s standing on the cliff, the edge crumbling away beneath him. 

The sky burns a violent blue, the sun flickering hellfire that makes his skin bubble and burn, angry red welts streaking along his arms and face. He’s turning, he’s turning, he’s turning and when he looks behind him Bokuto’s looking at him like always—no, not looking because his eyes are gouged out, blood trickling red and thick down his hollow cheeks. 

His face elongates, jaw dropping, mouth a black void as his image flickers and disappears. 

Akaashi can’t breathe.

Then Bokuto’s _in front of him_ , his hands tipped in black claws digging into Akaashi’s shoulders, piercing clean through flesh and bone as Akaashi screams in pain, that awful, rattling noise coming from Bokuto’s mouth drawing closer and closer to his ear to whisper—

_A̸̩̻͖̻̓͒̅͐͜k̸̛̰̺̙̘͎̬̂͒̓̏̾a̸̝̪̫̙̍̒͗̒͑̄͘ȧ̴̪͇̰́͌̐͘͜ͅs̴̡̤͕̱̟̔̅h̶̹͔͍̣̓͊̈́̑̓i̵͖̓̽̉͐̐̃̃_

He bolts upright and catches the cry about to burst from his throat. He’s fumbling for his glasses, swearing when he knocks his glass of water onto the ground, the shattering rousing Bokuto, his single golden eye flickering on.

[‘Kaashi?]

“L-lights—lights, Bokuto- _san_.” 

‘Golden hour glow’ flickers on.

[You okay?]

“Just—just give me a minute.”

[…h’okay.]

There’s a faint whirring – Bokuto’s sent the vacuum to the mess on the floor, glass shards tinkling as they rattle through the hose, the water beading along the clear plastic. 

“…thank you, Bokuto- _san_.” 

[Why’re you up?]

“Couldn’t sleep. What time is it?”

[0300.]

Akaashi groans and presses his head to his knees. “Any airlock trouble?” he asks ruefully, ignoring the wild flicker of anticipation in his gut. 

[’Fraid not.] The AI sounds amused. [Why, were you hoping for—]

“Absolutely not.”

[You sure? I can double check for ya if you want. Maybe just—]

Akaashi’s doors hiss open without warning, and he groans, flopping back onto his bed. “ _Bokuto-san_.”

[…that wasn’t me.]

He’s bolting upright for the second time that night, hand already reaching for the gun in his nightstand as he slowly stands. The floor, damp from the water, is cool beneath his feet, and a chill races down his spine. 

[Should I close—]

“Not yet.” He licks his lips. Wishes he hadn’t spilled his water. “Keep Washio and Yukie on standby, just in case.”

His heart is pounding in his ears as he edges towards the door, flicking the safety off his gun, watching the lights along the side flicker from red to yellow to green before he hovers just around the corner. He takes a minute, and tries to even out his breathing, cocking an ear towards the open door. His bedroom light spills into the hallway, but beyond the faded edges the hallway is dark, the tiny lights lining the bottom of the walls disappearing into the shadows. Just for a moment, he holds his breath and tries to ignore the hum of the ventilation as he cranes his neck out a little further.

Then he hears it.

It’s quiet and for a second he thinks he imagined it, but the cold shiver that bleeds down his spine says otherwise. Goosebumps erupt along his skin, every hair on edge as he presses his lips together and holds his breath, lungs burning as he tries to catch the noise again.

_click click click click_

That awful noise, the one that promises grey skin stretched taut along jutting bone

_click click click click_

yellowing fangs that ache to hook into flesh

_click click click click_

The twitching and jerking of too many legs as they lower towards him—

His blood runs cold, the gun slippery with sweat between his hands.

As they _lower towards him._

He feels rooted to the floor. He can’t stop staring down the hall, can’t stop listening for a sound he knows isn’t there anymore because—because the truth is too awful to consider, but there’s nothing echoing down the hall anymore, there’s no eldritch shaped shadow bleeding into the hazy circle of light, and his door’s been open wide for far too long and he’d been far too focused and he just needs to look up look up look up _look up—_

“Keiji?”

He whips the gun up, aims it neatly between your eyes as you jump, frozen on the spot as you raise your hands. “W-what—what’s going on—”

“Sorry,” he chokes out, lowering his weapon, flicking the safety back on. “Sorry, sorry. I thought I heard…something.”

“What kind of something?” You cautiously take a step towards him, clutching your mug between your hands, the spoon clinking against the side. He zeroes in on it, feels like he’s been doused in cold water.

“What is that?”

“This?” You look down at your drink, frowning in confusion as you give it a little stir. “Just tea.”

_Clink clink clink._

It doesn’t match perfectly, but the reality is far better than whatever warped version of the truth his mind produced. He lets out a shuddering breath, turns the gun off, watches the lights flicker from green to yellow to red as you shift towards him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

Is he, though? The feeling of _wrongness_ niggles at the back of his mind. It sits there, lurking in the shadows, clinging to his back, breathing along the back of his neck and making the hair rise along his arms. It’s worrying how easy it’d been to imagine, for one unending, awful moment that they’d been infiltrated, that he was going to look up and see his nightmares made into flesh gurgling and screeching as they bled from the ceiling towards him. 

He drags a clammy hand down his face.

“I’m okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr [@chicoree](https://chicoree.tumblr.com)


	2. bite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeaaaahhhhh finally getting into some of the action!!!!! It starts picking up from here I hope y'all like it! Smut at the start just as a heads up!!! ❤🚀🌏🌙⭐
> 
> Fun fact: Zaim is an actual crater on Mars! It spans ~24km wide I believe!

The dreams start to haunt him in reality, still staining his skin hours after he’s washed away the cold sweat, changed the sheets. He can see the glint of an oily black claw in the sleek curves of their machines, hear the hiss of the Arachnae in the sizzling pan Konoha cooks them dinner with. But Akaashi’s dealt with things like this before; knows how to handle them. Knows that all he can do is exhaust himself by throwing himself into his work, tiring out his brain until the nightmares fade back into the dark of night, until he stops reminding himself that there’s no other sound he could’ve heard that night. 

If anything, his fevered state has the benefit of pulling together the next expedition, everything neatly recorded and ready, three reports to be sent back to Earth, two suits prepared, one rover fueled and sitting in airlock B. 

The night before the mission, the last person he expects to see in the kitchen is you. Sarukui is already tucked into bed, eye mask and white noise machine on as he embarks on a dreamy adventure, preparing for the morning. You, on the other hand, are standing silhouetted in front of the fridge, glancing over your shoulder at Akaashi without a modicum of surprise, almost as if you were expecting him. Just like always.

“This seems too early for us to run into each other.”

“Hm?” When realization dawns you laugh, letting the fridge swing shut. “I guess midnight is early compared to 3am, huh?” 

He settles his hip against the table, mug cupped in his hands. “Can’t sleep?”

“Had a craving. Couldn’t find anything to satisfy it.” You nod at him. “Why did you bring that all the way here? Couldn’t you have just ported it?”

“I felt like walking.” He stares at the dregs at the bottom of his mug. It’s a half-truth, but he doesn’t even know how to begin explaining the strange sentimentality he has towards the AI; explaining how he still doesn’t feel right, even five years later, making Bokuto- _san_ bring his dirty dishes to the kitchen. “Are you worried about tomorrow?”

You hum and shift closer, prying the mug from his hands to place it in the dishwasher. His fingers tingle where you grazed him. 

“Not so much worried as maybe just—” You’re close. You’re so close, nearly standing toe to toe with him, looking him right in the eye with that same boldness from the other night. “—nervous.”

He watches your eyes track the bobbing of his throat. “There’s no reason to be. We’re mostly just testing the pinging capabilities of the new update.”

Why is he telling you this? You know. You were there when he briefed everyone. Hell, you volunteered for the mission. But for some reason he can’t stop talking, eyes fixed on yours as you draw closer and closer and _closer_. 

“I just want to make sure I do a good job.” You’re barely speaking above a whisper, breath brushing like butterfly wings along his mouth. The scent of soap – the same generic kind _everybody_ on base uses – is cloying mixed with the natural scent of your skin, making his toes curl in his slippers, his hand gripping a little harder at the edge of the table. He can see your smile in the way the corners of your eyes crinkle. “Wish me luck?”

Heat flashes through his body, making his head spin. The closeness is intoxicating, and he can’t help but sip at the shared space between you, gunmetal blue eyes watching the fluorescent lights in the kitchen reflect white in yours. The light streaks like shooting stars across your irises and then you’re pressing your mouth to his, eyes slipping closed, lashes dusting the tops of your cheeks as he stands frozen in the kitchen. 

You taste as warm as you feel, your body filling every broken gap that he never knew he had. Your arms wind around his neck, hips filling the space between his hands. He lets his eyes close and loses himself in you, in the soft noises of his mouth working against yours. 

You’re reluctant to draw away so he chases after you, tugging you closer, pulling a moan high and sweet from your chest, coaxing your tongue with his. His hands can’t stop roaming your back, his fingers trailing down your spine, tracing the curve of every vertebrae as your arms slide back until your fingers interlace along the back of his neck. Your thumb brushes his pulse point and he shivers, enough for you to pull back, smiling lazily at him. 

“Are you sensitive there?” You brush your thumb across it again and he shivers harder, your smile splitting wider. “You _are_.”

You replace your hand with your mouth, brushing gentle kisses up and down the side of his neck, nipping and sucking on the heartbeat thrumming through his veins. Akaashi can’t help it; his grip tightens on you, fisting your shirt between his hands as his back arches against you. He can feel himself growing hard, tenting the front of his pyjamas, the brush of your thigh along the length of him making him hiss. He’s mortified he’s aroused just from you laving his neck with attention and he tries to angle away, but then you lap your tongue along the juncture between his neck and shoulder and _bite_. His hips jerk forward of their own accord, nudging insistently against yours and drawing your face back up to his.

You cup his face in your hands, kiss him back just as hungrily as he kisses you, your tinkling laugh making the edges of his ears burn, even as the persistent need between his legs intensifies. He leans heavily against you, drunk with pleasure, at the way you’re just letting him shamefully grind his hips against yours, grind his cock against the heat between your thighs, reduced in the kitchen to little more than his base instincts. It just feels too _good_ , the pressure against his cock. It’s mouth-watering—in every sense of the phrase, because he doesn’t notice the drool slipping from the corner of his mouth until it’s too late.

“I could just eat you up,” you breathe, nipping at his bottom lip and tugging on it between your teeth. 

“Fuck,” he bites out, resting his head heavily against yours, letting you prop him up. Your hand trails down his chest to palm at his cock and he can’t help the sound that he chokes out. He should be embarrassed – maybe he is embarrassed, maybe that’s the reason why he feels like he’s been set alight, everything drawn to the way your hand feels stroking along his cock, tugging his underwear tight around his balls, fabric grazing warm and rough around the sensitive head. When your fingers slip past the band to touch skin on skin, circling the shaft and grinding the tip against the palm of your hand he surges forward to kiss you again, trying to muffle the needy panting spilling from his mouth.

“Feels good?”

“Y-yeah it feels—” You stroke your thumb along the edge and his hips jerk again into your hand, another bead of precum smeared between your hand and his body. “ _Nng_ it feels _good_.”

You’re speeding up, tightening your hold on him, and it’s just the bare minimum and he _knows_ this. He knows you only have three fingers wrapped around him, he knows he’s rutting into the tight warmth of your hand like he’s a teenager again, fucking into his own fist late at night with his shirt stuffed between his teeth. But he can’t help it. He keeps fucking into your hand, hips jerking back and forth, chasing the promise of pleasure tucked inside your smile, inside your eyes as you watch him use your hand to fall apart. He snaps his hips forward and jerks, moans into your mouth, sucking on your tongue. You eagerly kiss him back as his cum paints the inside of his pants and the curve of your wrist, his shuddering amplifying the twitch of his cock in your hand. He’s hazy, feeling boneless, the excuse that it’s ‘been a while’ bubbling on his tongue, but he loses the words when you lick your hand clean, eyes sparkling as you maintain your gaze.

Akaashi fumbles for your hand, uncaring of the cum that stains his skin as his fingers interlace yours, pushing you backwards as he crowds you. Wayward chairs skid out of the way; the kitchen table rattles as he presses you up against the counter, pressing his cooling cum against his skin as he pins you there, hip to hip and makes you keen.

“ _Keiji_.”

He pulls back just enough to soak in the sight of you kiss-bitten and bright-eyed. You roll your hips against his, making him hiss as sparks of _too much and not enough_ flare along his softening cock. Smiling, you run your free hand along the line of his shoulder again, thumb brushing up along his neck. 

Your gaze is heavy; heated. Demanding. Arching into him again you whisper, “ _Touch me_.”

“ _Yes—_ ” He cuts himself off as he wiggles a deft hand under the elastic band of your shorts to cup your pussy, grinning when he hears your sharp little inhale. He slides his hand back and forth along your slit, adding fuel to the fire, prompting you to rock your hips up against his hand. He’s steady, firm, but just on the edge of not being enough.

Akaashi nudges your ear with his nose, presses a kiss to your jaw. “I can feel you dripping all over my hand.” 

You shudder and sigh, curling your hands further into his hair as he adds pressure to one, long finger, wiggling it between your lips to press your panties against your fluttering entrance. It draws the cotton tight along your clit, the curve of his fingers grinding the heel of his hand against the bundle of nerves as he hums.

He slips his fingers deftly under the gusset of your panties and tugs them to the side, pressing them into the crease of your thigh to play freely with your folds when his head jerks up, jaw slack as his dick twitches in his pants. He’d said what he said to make you moan, but now? Now as he feels how _wet_ you are, as he feels you leak more around his fingers, he finds himself at a loss for words.

“You—You’re so—” He has to swallow down the word _wet_ , because it doesn’t do the lewd, slick noises coming from between your legs justice. Even when he pulls his hand from your fluttering heat and out your shorts his fingers are still glossy, sticky strings spreading between his fingers as he looks at them. The scent of you is overwhelming, the startled look you give him when he drops to his knees before you even more so. 

“Keiji, what—”

He pushes away your nervous fingers, shimmies your bottoms down over the curve of your hips, the swell of your ass, helping you step out of them. “Let me taste you.”

Your legs press together at the purr in his voice, and he pries them apart with his hands, his fingers digging into the soft fat of your inner thighs. You look delicious, folds slick, your hands bunching the hem of your shirt higher, knees knocking against his elbows as he dips closer and licks a long stripe along your clit. You both groan, voices wavering, echoing, your legs buckling as he sucks gently at the nub. It’s the last nicety he does for you before burying his face in your cunt, wiggling his tongue past the tight ring of your pussy to drink everything you have to offer him.

Your voice hitches as you bite back a wail, but your hips press harder into his face, clit bumping along the bridge of his noise as he works you, pulling you apart bit by bit with nothing but the slick muscle pushing insistently against your walls. 

“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, groaning against you when you mewl his name. He looks up at you, at the way you look on the verge of being absolutely _wrecked_ , at the way you can’t help but slam your eyes shut and throw your head back when he does something sinful and wicked with his tongue, a tight swirl and a long suck making your thighs shake around his ears as you rut against his face. 

He pulls away for a quick breath, licking the flat of his tongue from your twitching hole back to your clit, kissing wet and noisy along the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your legs twitch a little closer and he pulls away, eyes burning up the line of your body as he looks at you. “Spread your legs more.”

You bite at your bottom lip but do as you’re told, and Akaashi groans as he dives back into your glistening folds, a muffled, “ _Good girl_ ” slipping mindlessly from him. Your voice hitches and your thighs clamp tight as you stutter out his name. His cock is half-hard again, valiantly rising at the way you’re making a complete mess of his face, your juices slicking across his cheeks, his chin, his tongue not deft enough to lap everything up as you hiss and cum, hands fisted tight along the edge of your shirt, splatters of his seed streaked along your stomach from your hand. 

Akaashi swipes at his mouth with the back of his arm as he rises to crush his mouth against yours. He presses the insistent swell of his cock against your shuddering body, soaking your essence into his pants to mingle with his. Your underwear is discarded, lost to the room, hitting the floor with a wet _pap_. You’re both fumbling with the edge of his pants, trying to push them down, his cock bobbing free, pretty and heavy all at once to smack against your bodies.

[Uh…sorry to interrupt, but someone’s coming.]

Both of you freeze.

The mad scramble to look presentable is made worse by the realization that you’ve had an audience this whole time – albeit not necessarily a physical one. It’s a strange conundrum to be a part of, but redefining ‘exhibitionism’ is the least of Akaashi’s worries when he’s trying to wash away the lingering evidence of your pleasure still clinging to his skin. You’re scrambling for your shorts, wiggling them on as Bokuto whispers,

[You got like, thirty seconds]

Akaashi’s heart leaps into his throat, his flagging erection twitching as he catches sight of your underwear tossed in the opposite corner. 

“Wait, you missed your—” His eyes drift and he has to tear them away to look at the ceiling as he strides to your discarded underwear, willing his cock back down. “You still have…cum on your hand and your shirt.” 

“Shit,” you hiss, lathering your hands, angling yourself to hide the half-dried stains on your clothing as Akaashi scoops your panties up with one long finger and stuffs them into his pocket, ignoring the shivers that cascade down his spine when he realizes they’re still soaking wet. 

“Whoa.” Konoha grins, ruefully rubbing at the back of his head as he stands in the kitchen doorway. “Nobody can sleep, huh?” 

Akaashi sidles nonchalantly along the edge of the room, never more thankful that his pyjamas are black. Never more thankful Konoha can’t see the bundle of your panties in his pocket, can’t see the way Akaashi can’t stop rubbing the fabric between his fingers, dizzy with the knowledge that all that…all that came from _you_ because of _him_. 

“Her I understand,” he jerks his chin towards you, “But you—hey, you sure you’re okay, ‘Kaashi? You look kinda flushed.”

“I’m fine, Konoha- _san_. I was just up late going over final details.” 

“Oh yeah? What kind of details?”

Akaashi’s brow furrows, playing along with the not-quite-lie he’s told Konoha, already more than certain they aren’t the details his friend wants to know. The mission is the furthest thing from his mind when he’s wondering how the cotton will feel wrapped around his cock, the damp gusset gliding up and down his shaft, following the ghost of your hand. Wondering what you’d say if he stained them with his cum, mixed proof of your arousals together. Wondering how badly he’d pull them out of shape if he fucked into them.

He catches your eye, cool, calm, collected. Cracking. “Nothing you need to worry about. But we should all get some sleep.” He nods politely at Konoha, at you, he allows his eyes to linger a little longer on the peek of your nipples through your shirt. “Good night.”

He’s almost at his door when he hears your footsteps behind him, your hands spinning him around, the press of your breasts tantalizing against his chest as you kiss him hungrily. He hates that he has to push you away but he does, sucking in a few deep breaths to settle his fraying nerves. “You really should go to sleep.”

“But—”

“Tomorrow,” he promises, unable to resist stroking a hand up your side, letting the weight of one breast sit along the edge of his thumb as he bites back a moan.

You steal one more long, lingering kiss from him, peppering the rest down his throat, teeth scraping at the tender spot at the base of his neck. You look at him, all breathless anticipation and hazy need. “Tomorrow.”

 _Tomorrow_ , Akaashi thinks, stumbling to his bed, pushing his pants and underwear down to fall half-naked onto his sheets. He repeats it like a mantra, lets it echo in the back of his mind as he soaks the precum beading from the tip of his cock into your underwear, as he presses the damp crotch again the base of his shaft and throws his head back, as he grips his shirt between his teeth, hips jerking heedlessly into the air as he cums inside the stretched material. He’s panting, boneless, breathless, sweat glistening down his chest, the gentle brush of fabric against his cock pulling a pained groan from his chest; he’s already growing hard again.

Rolling onto his side he ruts into your underwear, muffling his moans into the mattress.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. 

  
  
  


The first two hours of the mission proceed smoothly. It’s to be expected, nothing out of the ordinary as you and Sarukui drive out to the edge of the base’s perimeter. Everybody is in high spirits, not a single worry in sight; it’s all eager anticipation, chatter filling the air about what you and Sarukui might find, what lies outside the tiny oasis you’ve scraped together for yourselves. Akaashi is diligently watching the screen, watching the camera feed of sun-bleached red rock speed past, dust kicking up along the edges of the picture. He can’t stop glancing between that and the picture of you beaming in the bottom right-hand corner, your vitals a brilliant blue above Sarukui’s. 

“Stop worrying about your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Konoha snorts. “She might as well be.”

Akaashi’s retort is interrupted by the sound of your voice calling, “We’re approaching the Zaim crater now.”

“Copy.” Konoha releases the button, smirking as he turns his attention back towards Akaashi. “I’ve seen you guys getting all lovey dovey.”

For an awful, awful moment Akaashi thinks Konoha knew about the way the two of you had desecrated the kitchen, about the way he’d been fondling your underwear the entire time they’d been talking, but the gleam in Konoha’s eye isn’t that sly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So you won’t be mad if I make a move?”

“Whoa. Are you guys seeing this?”

Akaashi is spared from answering at the breathless excitement in Sarukui’s voice, his cam panning across the wide expanse of the Zaim crater. It never fails to take Akaashi’s breath away, no matter how many photos he’s seen throughout his training. The crater spreads 24 km wide, the uneven spread of it littered with rocks and rubble. The lip of it is jagged, most of the edges worn smooth from the ceaseless winds. Even through a screen Akaashi can see the layers of sediment in the walls, streaks of deep red striping through the familiar terracotta that paints the lay of the land. Down below there’s the glimmer of ice, a ring of frosty diamond that circles the basin.

“Okay! Heading down now.” Sarukui steps forward, stamping his treads into the ground when you grab at him.

“Sarukui, hold on. Do you see that?”

“See what?”

“That. Look—there.” Your camera swings; your arm extends into the frame. “The ledge there. You guys can see it too, right?”

There’s something glimmering, winking a red too brilliant to be mistaken for dust. 

“…what is that?” Sarukui’s camera zooms, but it does little more than reveal the vague outline of whatever you’re looking at without any useful detail. “We’re gonna go check it out.”

Akaashi stands, braces his hands on the panel before him, and presses a button. “Be _careful_.”

“Always, ‘Kaashi.”

The room is quiet for once, watching the bumping, rattling trip around the edge of the crater, everyone focused intently on the brilliant bundle of pixels that slowly sheds its shimmer.

Yukie’s hand flies to her mouth. “Is that…?”

“Holy shit.” Konoha stands with a clatter of his chair, eyebrows shooting upwards. “I don’t fucking believe it.”

There, sitting innocently on a ledge little more than two meters below the lip of the crater is a plant. A plant with a large, hanging fruit, a red so vibrant it almost seems to glow, even with the dust eddying around the dark purple leaves. The light gleams off the smooth, silky curl of the leaves bowing towards the ground, the stalk that curves between them bleeding from near black to a deep purple, a dark bruise fixed to the top of the fruit. 

“This is—” Sarukui’s camera zooms closer. “I can’t believe it.”

On his half of the screen the team can see you step closer, sinking to the ground as you turn to try and shimmy yourself down the wall. “I’m going to bring it back to base.” 

“ _Be—_ ”

“—careful. Yeah, yeah, Keiji. I know.”

Yukie snorts as Kaori nudges her, and Akaashi blushes. Even Washio is trying to hide a grin, shrugging his shoulders at their commander as Konoha doesn’t bother to keep from snickering.

It’s slow going on your end; the crater edge is crumbly, rock weathered down from years of wind, the unforgiving atmosphere sucking what little moisture is left on the surface of the red planet away. One misstep and…well. It’d be a bumpy ride all the way to the bottom. 

Konoha clicks his tongue, slowly shaking his head. “She’s ballsy.”

“Yeah.” Akaashi can feel the eyes boring into the side of his face; has to resist meeting them with his own. “What?”

“You never answered my question. What if I made a move on her huh?”

Blue meets brown, the ocean beating ferociously along a cliff face. Konoha’s grin just gets bigger and bigger, and then he’s flat out laughing, clapping a hand to Akaashi’s shoulder.

“I’m kidding!” He manages to quiet for a handful of seconds before he’s chuckling again. “You shoulda seen the look on your face.”

“I don’t get what’s so funny, Konoha- _san_.” Ever the picture of perfect neutrality, Akaashi carefully unknits his brow, pushing down the sickening swell of jealousy that’d risen at Konoha’s words.

“Careful with the roots,” Konoha says into the mic. He turns back to his friend, squeezing Akaashi’s shoulder. “I’m not laughing at you, ‘Kaashi. I guess…it’s just kind of nice.”

“What is?”

“That you’re letting people in again.” 

“I never shut people out—”

“You did.” Akaashi turns accusing eyes to Kaori, who shrugs, shifting Yukie’s arms up and down with her shoulders, the other woman’s face just as amused as Konoha’s.

Even turning to Washio is no help, the stoic man cracking a bare smile. “You did.”

Akaashi’s body flushes hot as he turns resolutely back to the screen, everybody wisely choosing to refrain from commenting on the rosy tint of his cheeks. “We should be focusing on the task at hand.”

The chorus of, “You got it, commander,” is far too amused for his liking, but the room quiets all the same, only the quiet scrape of you and Sarukui carefully excavating the plant from its perch filling the room. 

“Good to go!” Sarukui flashes a triumphant thumbs up at the plant, the fruit nestled in the crook of your elbow, the leaves and roots draping over your arm, like some bizarre, ugly baby. “I’ll give you a boost. Sound good?”

“Yeah.”

Carefully, carefully, you step onto Sarukui’s hand, your free hand scrabbling for the top, him grunting as he lifts you to roll across the ground. There’s a collective sigh of relief as you slowly stand, a few of your discovery’s leaves a little bent, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

Konoha taps the button, grinning as he leans into the mic. “Great job, guys. Head back to base and we can—”

_click click click_

“—explore Zaim another—”

Akaashi bodily pushes Konoha out of the way, voice panicked, raw as he yells, “Look out—!” 

He’s too late.

Your camera shudders as you cry out, the world rapidly tilting, the landscape streaking on screen as you slide along the ground. 

“Shit!” Sarukui clambers over the edge, camera bobbing, swinging flashes of the eerie silhouette crawling towards you on screen. Even from a distance it’s not hard to see the way the claws dig into the ground, the sickening way they fall one after the other, scuttling unnaturally towards you. They stab the dirt with every step closer to your struggling form, the desiccated torso bobbing and writhing with the motion. 

“Fuckin’ hell—hurry the fuck up and _shoot_!” Konoha yells; Yukie covers her eyes with her hands.

The second it takes the gun to charge is a second too long. Sarukui’s hands are steady despite his heavy breathing, despite his heartbeat shooting sky-high as he aims and fires, the Arachne reaching towards you jerking back and turning to angrily hiss—

He yells when something hits him _hard_ from the side, scrambling onto his back and fumbling for his lost gun. A ghastly face fills the screen, grey and emaciated, the dark red, soulless eyes sunken into its skull, black ectoplasm seeping from the corners of its mouth as its jaw drops lower, lower, lower than it should. Its fangs gleam green in the sunlight, hands scrabbling at Sarukui’s helmet as he yells and kicks as wildly as he can.

Spittle splatters the camera. The sound of nails gouging into the visor shrieks loud and awful through the speakers.

Yukie presses her face into Kaori’s shoulder. “I can’t watch—” 

Sarukui braces his legs against the concave chest and kicks as hard as he can, whimpering as he desperately searches for his gun, the Arachne howling as it lunges forward again.

“ _Fuck off_.” Its torso jerks, a hole punched through its shoulder, leaking blood the colour of bile from its ragged edges. 

“YES!” Konoha slams a fist to the table. “C’mon, buddy, head shot—”

It shrieks, an awful roaring cacophony of noise as its legs flash, dragging across the ground as it races towards Sarukui, arms extended—

Its head explodes in a splatter of brain matter and skull fragments, flecking Sarukui’s camera black as he whips around to you and fires another shot. One of the Arachne’s many legs blows clean off, spinning through the air, a stream of thick blood spraying across the ground as it stumbles backwards. Sarukui’s camera bobs wildly as he runs as fast as he can towards you, the Arachne struggling back to its feet as it hisses. 

“Get up get up get up,” Kaori whispers from behind her hands, eyes wide and watery.

You scramble to your feet, pulling _back_ against Sarukui’s insistent hands as you try to stumble back towards the alien.

“The plant—”

“Forget the plant—”

“But—”

Akaashi slams a hand on the intercom. “ _Forget the goddamn plant and get back to base_.”

There’s a split second when you seem to look directly at him through the screen, still pretty, still defiant, even framed by the gore still stubbornly clinging to Sarukui’s camera. _Ballsy_ , Konoha had called you. _Brazen_ , is what Akaashi wanted to say instead, lingering on the memory of you kissing him in the kitchen, smiling sharp and tempting as you whispered, _I could just eat you up._

 _Stupid_ is the more appropriate word when you yank yourself free as Sarukui yells, racing forward as fast as you can, eyes fixed on the fruit a scant few feet away from the Arachne’s twitching limbs.

“Cover her,” Akaashi spits out tersely, ignoring the bite in Sarukui’s voice when he says,

“You don’t have to tell me that.”

The Arachne recoils slightly, as if stunned by your idiocy, before it’s back to crouching in on itself, its shorter forelegs twitching back and forth, spurts of its blood still leaking on the ground. It springs forward with a chilling howl as you dive, rocks clinking along your helmet as you slide towards the fruit. 

“Yes!” You snatch it up, its leaves bruised, half the roots torn off, but still intact as you cradle it against your chest and—

A clawed leg slices through the air.

There’s a gunshot.

The scream you let out is bloodcurdling; it’s agonizing, and for a second Akaashi’s heart stops as he waits for the flatlining LED, for the sight of your blood watering the barren ground.

Sarukui fires again and the Arachne jerks, suspended in midair. For an awful moment he thinks he missed, thinks he was too late, but your garbled sobbing doesn’t cut off, filling him with an awful cocktail of relief and dread. “What is it? You okay?”

You raise your tear-streaked face, hand clasped tight over your arm.

There’s a gurgling clicking from the side, the Arachne – still wounded, still _alive_ – swaying on its many legs, its one remaining hand pressed to the bloody stump where its other used to be.

“Shit. Shit shit _shit_.” He brandishes his gun as he drags you backward, wincing at your whimpers, frantically glancing over his shoulder for any other multi-legged monsters lurking nearby. The Arachne just hisses, spittle flying from its mouth as it warily eyes the two of you.

“What’s going on.” Akaashi waits, shoulders tight, heart pounding in his chest. There’s nothing but Sarukui’s soft murmuring, the rumble of the rover, your choking sobs. He presses the intercom a little harder. “ _What’s going on_.” 

“We’re good, we’re good.” Sarukui’s voice is shaking. “They’re not following us.”

“They got my comms unit. I'm so sorry—” Your voice is thick with pain as you hiss and Sarukui swears.

“Fuck the comms unit. Akaashi, we’re gonna need a med-pac; they tore through her suit.”

Yukie swears and stumbles to the door on shaky legs, barely managing to mutter something about the med-bay. 

Akaashi licks his lips, mouth gone dry. “How bad is it?”

“I dunno I didn’t exactly have time to check—”

“Just get back here ASAP.” He turns to the remaining team members, curling his hands into fists to hide their shaking. “Konoha, grab them a change of clothes. Kaori, kitchen. They’re going to need something to calm them.”

She nods, wringing her hands together. “Tea?”

“Whiskey. Washio. Go help Yukie. I’ll stay here—”

“You should go.” Washio’s voice lowers a little, softens a touch. “She’ll probably want to see you.”

Akaashi’s stunned silence is broken by Konoha’s hand clapping hard onto his shoulder again, a smile pulled tight across his face. “You heard the man. Let’s go.”

Akaashi moves on auto-pilot, grabbing the blankets, the bandages, letting Yukie mumble a thin excuse about needing to grab some water as her shoulders hitch, voice stuffy and raw as she faces the corner to cry. 

When you stumble in, hand still clasped to your wrist, your eyes automatically fly to his, your lashes and face wet with tears. 

“Bokuto- _san_. The plant.”

[On it.]

A thin tractor beam surrounds the fruit, glowing an ominous purple in the pale blue light as the AI carefully deposits it in a containment case.

[Where do ya want it, ‘Kaashi?]

“Just—1-A for now. Tell Washio to find a spot for it.” He turns back to you, pries your hand from your arm. “How bad is it?”

Your arm has a dark stripe of black along it, the edges a deep blue and he hisses sympathetically, leading you to a bench. He kneels beside you, hastily opening the med-pac, rifling through its contents. Frostbite is no laughing matter even in its mildest forms, but the severity of it on your arm after only a bare second of exposure makes Akaashi feel sick. “Eyes on me, okay?”

You blink blearily at him, but nod nonetheless. He jabs your shoulder with the anesthetic, smiles encouragingly at you when you slur out, “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Yeah.” His smile turns into a grimace as he opens the next canister. “You ready?”

You nod once and he sprays, gritting his teeth as you _scream_ , loud and long, body thrashing, legs kicking as your entire body jerks. “ _Hold her_ —"

Sarukui and Konoha press firm hands to your shoulders, grimacing as you fling your head from side to side, as blisters rise, red and painful along your skin, deflating as quickly as they swell. But it’s working; it’s _working_. The frostbite is receding, your skin rapidly turning back to normal, dead tissue sloughing off to reveal healthy flesh underneath. 

Akaashi lets the canister clatter to the floor, rubbing a soothing hand along your leg as you bite back whimpers, body slowly stilling. “Are you okay to stand?”

You hiccup, blinking away tears. “…yes.”

Yukie darts to your side, pressing the whiskey into Sarukui’s hands as she slings your arm over her shoulder. “I’ll take her back to her room. She probably needs to rest.”

It’s quiet as the two of you hobble out, your body swaying dangerously as your feet drag heavy along the ground. 

Akaashi has to take a moment. He pulls his glasses off. Rubs at his eyes. There’s a headache brewing behind his eyes, the threat of tears doing little to ease the faint throbbing. 

He slips his glasses back on, and touches a hand to the commander badge on his suit. Allows himself a deep breath. Washio is waiting for him; _everyone_ is waiting for him. He turns to Sarukui. “What happened?”

“They came out of nowhere.” Sarukui can’t stop staring at the whiskey, tiny tremors rippling along its surface as he speaks. I didn’t—I didn’t see anything. We didn’t even get a ping—”

“You couldn’t have known they were out there.” The commander’s badge is rough beneath Akaashi’s fingers. “It’s not your fault.”

“No shit it’s not their faults.” Konoha crosses his arms, shifting from foot to foot, restlessly eyeing each of his crewmates in turn. “I thought we killed them all after the war.” 

“We’ve missed them before.” Kaori nervously wets her lips, back to wringing her hands, her bracelet chiming sweet and out of place in the thick air. “Who says we couldn’t have missed them here?”

The implication is too awful to consider. 

Akaashi taps twice on his comms unit. “Washio.”

“Yes?”

“Send a message to Earth. Tell them what happened; promise them a full report by tonight. Sarukui will come to you in an hour to be debriefed.”

“Got it.”

“Kaori. You still have the coding for Arachne scans?” At her nod, Akaashi lets the barest smile slip across his face, trying to play at the ghost of reassurance. “Good. Upload it. Work on it with Bokuto- _san_ , then get him to start a planet-wide scan so we can see if we missed anything. Konoha, with me. We’re doing a full security check. Perimeters, cameras, everything. Nothing moves without us knowing about it.”

“What about the comms unit?”

For a moment, Akaashi hates Konoha for bringing it up. He’d been neatly dodging it, focusing on the here and now, on what had to be done.

“There’s nothing we can do about it. We leave it there.”

“Leave it—” Konaha steps forward, lowers his voice, as if he’s afraid to say, “Our coordinates are in there. If they figure out how to work it, it’ll lead them straight to us.”

“We leave it there.”

“Yeah, totally. Leaving a tracker with an extraterrestrial life form with multiple arms is a solid plan. It definitely won’t come back to bite us in the ass.”

“Konoha- _san_ , I’m not changing my mind.”

 _’Kaashi_ , we can’t just—”

Akaashi’s eyes flash, brow furrowing, voice dropping just as low as Konoha’s as he stares his friend down. “ _We’re not sending anyone back out there_.” 

Kaori looks nervously between them, words caught in her throat as both men bristle, daring the other to speak first. After a painful moment Konoha slowly backs down, bitterness bleeding into his tawny eyes.

“I’m not going to risk losing someone else. Not tonight. Not until we have a plan.” Akaashi looks plaintively at his friend, willing him to read between the lines, willing him to understand.

And maybe Konoha does. Maybe he does all too well because he shakes his head and scoffs, “We’re not seventeen anymore, you know. We know how to fight back now.”

He turns away. The doors hiss open and hiss shut.

Kaori dares to inch a little closer, lifting a hesitating hand to his shoulder. “’Kaashi—”

“We have work to do.”

He can’t look her in the eye, can’t look at the golden light winking at him from the corner of the room. So he turns his back to her and leaves, her fingers curling around thin air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr! [@chicoree](https://chicoree.tumblr.com)


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